Russian Roulette
by gleek2
Summary: Lieutenant 'Blaze' Morrigan had it all down. She'd go to Russia, find the A-team, and get herself up to a five star ranking. But when her superior, Sosa, gets captured by a familiar face, who will she call on? And will they be willing to help her?
1. The Union

Chapter One: The Union

Moscow, the capital of Russia. A place to tour, a place some might fall in love, a place for American-wanted fugitives to hide out. Although it isn't the 'Big Bad Red' it was presumed to be back in the day, it has had its break out in crime, like every other country. Seven days ago, the Alpha Team or A-Team had been spotted in Moscow, and now the Department of Defense was stepping in.

* * *

><p>1400 hours, Washington D.C., United States of America, 2011<p>

Briefing Room, D.O.D. HQ

* * *

><p>Captain Charisa Sosa and First Lieutenant Cyrus 'Blaze' Morrigan were summoned into a debriefing room of the Department of Defense in Washington D.C. Captain Sosa was a member of D.O.D. intelligence, whose main personal objective for the last year was to find Hannibal Smith's team. Cyrus, or Blaze as she preferred, was Military Police. Blaze had also earned a reputation as a hacker with better than average skills. She'd chosen the more physically active career in the MP division because she couldn't imagine herself trapped behind a desk all day.<p>

Due to the formality of the meeting, both women wore their dress uniforms: Sosa in her army green skirt suit; Blaze in her dark navy jacket and skirt. Both women were decorated with badges and buttons to indicate rank and merit; Blaze also wore the gray sash on her right arm that indicated "MP".

"Captian Sosa, First Lieutenant Morrigan," the Colonel greeted them. "This mission is of vital importance. The recently trialed Alpha Team, containing Col. John 'Hannibal' Smith, Lieutenant Templeton 'Faceman' Peck, Sergeant Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus, and Captain James 'Howlin Mad' Murdock have been spotted in Moscow. Although I would say charge right in and capture them, these men have proven more clever than we anticipated.

"Now, these men are highly dangerous, and I do not want you two getting anywhere near them until you are given explicit orders. You are to find them and report back to us. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." they answered together in complete unison.

"Good, now, I want you two to work together in this. Sosa, you're the ranking member of this team, and you are familiar with this A-Team, so you're in command. I want you in Russia as soon as possible. Do not, and I repeat, do not move in unless given direct orders from us. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." they replied again.

"Failure is not an option. Those men must be retained and brought to justice. Now go."

The two women saluted and made their way out of the facility, preparing for a long flight to Russia.

* * *

><p>0700 hours, Moscow, Russia, 2011, week three of operation<p>

Peking Hotel, room 413

* * *

><p><span>Colonel, <span>

No solid leads on the A-Team as of yet. We have trolled local bars and have received information about a several men who fit their description. We have continued to follow those leads.

If anything develops, you'll be the first to know.

~ Lieutenant Cyrus 'Blaze' Morrigan

Blaze clicked the icon to send her brief email. She rubbed her eyes and wished she could send the message she'd composed in her head:

_General,_

_Nothing's good here, it's all just a big empty jug of water waiting to be refilled by a dried out pump. We'll never find anything, for all we know they could've moved around already! They seem to know we're on their trail, and their doing their best to cover up their tracks. _

_We're working hard, but apparently not hard enough._

_Sosa and I have not found any useful information about the whereabouts of Hannibal Smith and his team, just a bunch of drunks telling us about a large African-American man with a Ranger tattoo and yes sir, we kept that lead, but like most things over here it fizzled out._

_No wonder vodka is the drug of choice in Mother Russia._

_Anyways, that is my report, sir. Nothing more than a burnt out candle in the dark. We'll keep plugging away, but this is beginning to feel like a fool's mission. Any water you'd like me to carry in a sieve, next time?_

Blaze sighed. The Colonel wouldn't be pleased about this. Being in Russia for almost a month, people may have expected big results, but with Smith's team being so elusive . . .

"Blaze, can you go downstairs and get us some coffee? I've been up all night," said Sosa, turning her attention to the woman at the other laptop.

Blaze wasn't the typical Military Police officer. She had jet black hair that was very choppy in places, a weird cut for the military in general, with a bright red streak randomly placed in it. Her eyes reminded Sosa of Face's, a deep blue with hints of lighter tones mixed between. Standing at 5'7, Blaze towered over Sosa by three inches.

The other woman nodded, her black hair falling away from her loosely tied ponytail.

Because of the undercover nature of the mission, none of them wore military gear. Although they couldn't blend in inconspicuously with the locals, they could at least try and be unremembered; just typical American tourists. Keeping with military training, however, each of them carried a sidearm in a concealed holster.

Blaze tightened the laces of her black Converse before standing up and stretching. She straightened out her t-shirt.

"Normal, Decaf? Cream? Sugar?" asked the MP, yawning and slipping on a leather jacket.

The Captain shook her head and turned back to the computer. "Black is fine. You guys want anything?" Sosa asked to her other two team members.

They both said, "no", and Blaze nodded and took a key off of the nearest table and trudged out the door. The hotel was old looking, although newly refurbished. She smiled as she looked at the architecture of the building, for she always had a fancy for that subject.

Hitting the button on the elevator, she waited patiently until a door finally dinged.

"We're getting off," said a man in a suit, standing behind a few other men. He urged the group forward.

He had a crop of brown hair, cut cleanly. He had an American accent, and the grin he gave Blaze as he passed her showed utter cockiness. She rolled her eyes and stepped onto the newly emptied platform. Hitting the 'G' button and making it glow, the elevator's doors closed.

Blaze smiled tiredly to herself, leaning against one of the bars lining the walls.

The elevator reached street level and she got off, heading to the cafe located in the lobby.

Trudging slowly towards her destination, she watched the people around her. Some were tense or depressed, while others were happy and in love. Just a normal crowd of people.

She almost gagged at the sight of everything.

Blaze used her best fake smile as she entered the cafe. It was awful the way there was a Starbucks everywhere now, she thought.

"Hello, how can I help you?" asked the cashier at the register. The barista spoke in a heavy Russian accent, but at least she tried English.

"I need one coffee, black, and a strawberry-banana smoothie. Make it quick please," she replied politely.

The blender rang in her ears as she stood scanning the lobby. It was habit to be aware of her surroundings. She saw the group of men that had gotten out on her floor come out of the elevator. Their body language was odd: it seemed they were trying hard to act cool and collected. One had a scrape on his left cheek, right below the eye and close to the nose. The one who spoke to her near the elevator was missing.

She thought to herself, Weird. My Spidey-sense is tingling.

Paying the cashier and eyeing the men as they walked out, Blaze went back to the elevator and pushed the button. It didn't glow.

Even more weird, she thought, balancing the coffee while drinking her smoothie. Not a power outage, I hope.

She headed towards the stairs and opened the door. Carefully she jogged up the stairs, still balancing the coffee. Pushing open the door to the fourth floor, the MP went through the hallways, towards the room.

Walking up to the room labeled '413', she noticed the door slightly ajar. A heavy rock dropped into her stomach. Very carefully opening the door a little more, a destroyed room greeted her.

She called quietly, "Sosa? Gammons? Ravech?" all the while kicking herself for not paying attention to her instincts. She set the drinks down on the floor in the hallway and drew her sidearm from her ankle holster.

As carefully as she opened the door, she stepped into the room with even more caution. She took in as much detail as she could as she glanced around the room. Desks were thrown over, the dresser drawers had been dumped, and the computers were trashed.

"Morrigan..." someone mumbled from behind an overturned desk. Blaze heard her name, and hurried over to the source.

"Ravech," she began, running over to the desk and looking down, "what the hell happened?"

"This g-guy. These . . . men. Killed Gammons. T-took Sosa." He coughed up blood as he spoke, his words barely comprehensible. The MP knelt down by his side.

He was clutching his stomach, and Blaze notice the dark blood oozing from around his hand. A ragged hole in his shoulder was visible too, the same blood flowing from it.

"The guy took Sosa out that window. I-I heard a car dr-drive by . . . "

Blaze nodded and shoved her hand over his to apply more pressure to the bullet wound she knew was there. She also tried to staunch the blood from his injured shoulder.

"We're getting you to a hospital."

* * *

><p>"Is he all right?" asked Blaze as the doctor came out. He nodded his head and rubbed his hands together.<p>

"Yes, and he is asking for you," replied the doctor.

With a sigh the MP got up, running her fingers through her hair as she walked towards his room. She knocked slightly.

"Come in," rasped Ravech, his voice not as chipper as usual. She moved in and sat next to him.

"You're coherent," said Blaze, surprised.

"Yeah. I'm surprised too."

She laughed.

"Did Sosa say anything before she was taken?"

Ravech's head shot up, a quirky grimace on his face.

"Yes."

Blaze didn't like that he was being evasive. "All right, what is it?"

In the short time she'd known the Captain, she grew to like the no-nonsense team leader. If Ravech had information that could help get her back, he'd better spill it. Five minutes ago.

"She was shouting at the guy. The one who grabbed her. She called him Lynch, and Burress. Then . . ."

"Ravech, what is it?" she demanded as he hesitated. She was going through an emotional wringer right now: anxious and upset.

The Sergeant cleared his throat. "She was yelling at Lynch, and then to me . . . to find the A-team. Ask for their help."

The MP sat in shock at his statement. Ask for their help? she thought. What in the hell?

"She said that the team owed her some kind of favor," Ravech continued. "Luckily for me, this Lynch thought I was already dead and hadn't heard."

"Huh," was all Blaze could formuate.

Ravech closed his eyes and smiled still. "Now I need to sleep."

The MP left on his command, running his fingers through her black mane. She came to a quick decision. She knew she should report all this to HQ and await orders. They would never let her look for the A-Team and ask for their assistance. But Sosa herself had commanded to get them involved in this . . .

Blaze shook her head. This was no longer a locate-and-apprehend mission. Not anymore. It was a search and rescue.

* * *

><p><strong>AGH! FINALLY OUT! YES!<strong>

**I want to thank my awesome beta reader/co-writer Hoodoo! This person...is amazing! Caught all my mistakes in army stuff and helped me tremendously!(and see? I think I spelled that wrong...) YAY!**

**So enjoy! And don't worry, some romance MIGHT come in later...I'll have to discuss it with Hoodoo! **

**Stay Classic, Live long and prosper, Hasta Leugo and don't eat the yellow snow!**

**~gleek2**


	2. Glory Day

Chapter Two: Glory Day  
><p>

* * *

><br>2100 hours, Moscow, Russia (week three, day 2 of D.O.D. operation)

Bega Hotel, room 423

* * *

>Hannibal Smith struck a match across its box, setting the tiny stick ablaze. He brought the match up to his cigar to light it, his entire aura radiating pride. The A-team had recently taken down a notorious drug lord and come into a bit of money. Now Murdock was cooking, Face was talking to some Russian girl over the phone, and B.A. was tinkering with some metal scraps he had on hand.<p>As customary, B.A. and Murdock were arguing.<p>

"Hey, aren't you at least happy I was grounded this time?" Murdock defended himself, flipping steaks on a make-shift grill on the kitchen.

Hannibal, only half paying attention to the habitual bickering, smirked to himself and looked down at a recently printed profile.

"Yeah, it would've been better if we shot you again. Crazy ** fool, could've gotten you sane," retorted B.A., his hands busy at work.

Silently hanging up the phone, Face leaned back in his chair and listened to his friends argue.

"Bosco, I saved your life in Mexico. Then also in Germany. When, exactly, are you going to get over your fear of flyin'?" Murdock flipped two steaks on the grill with a spatula, sending a burst of fire up into the air.

Hannibal continued scanning his file.

Suddenly bored with the never-ending argument between the pilot and the black man, Face turned to Hannibal. "Whatcha lookin' at boss?"

Murdock and B.A. kept up their discussion in the background about barrel rolls and how crazy Murdock seemed to be.

"Something that might help us in the future," replied the Colonel, rubbing his chin slightly while looking down.

Face glanced down at the papers, noticing a picture of a woman and her name. The photo was blurry, but her dark hair was stark and her stance was obviously military. "Lieutenant Cyrus 'Blaze' Thrud Morrigan. Military Police. Damn, She could be hot."

"If women were allowed, she'd be good enough to be a Ranger," Hannibal said quietly, almost to himself versus explaining to his team. He cleared his throat and addressed Face more directly. "And her computer skills . . . at a young age, she got through several of the Pentagon's firewalls without being noticed until later that evening. The military went knocking on her door, and . . . convinced her it was in her best interest to be a team player. When she was able, she joined up."

Face scrutinized the photo. "Why's she got an MP sash on her arm? If she's that good with software, she should be in intelligence."

"Don't know," Hannibal replied. He flipped to the next page of the file, revealing her record. Face read from it upside down.

"Shit, that's amazing. She helped track Saddam loyalists? The people we stole the plates from?"

"The exact ones. Of course, she had no idea of the intentions, just followed orders."

Murdock came out, apron and all, to place plates full of dinner in front of each of them.

"Who followed orders?" asked the crazy pilot, plopping down in his own chair to begin digging into his own meal.

B.A set his project—what was that thing, anyway?—and started cutting apart his steak.

"A soldier named Blaze Morrigan. Hacked the Pentagon and has a degree in . . . Electrical Engineering?" Face stared at the pieces of paper out in front of him. "Once again, boss, why is she with Military Police? She's smart and a looker."

"Damn, Face. MPs ain't no escort service," mumbled B.A., chomping on his meal.

"It's not me, it's Hannibal!" Face accused, then returned to a slight variation of his questioning. "Boss, what do you even want with her?"

Hannibal smiled.

"It's not what we want with her; it's what she wants with us. Her latest assignment was to find us and take us in. She's partnered with Captain Sosa, and according to this, is situated at a local hotel," replied the ex-Colonel off-handedly. "What's even more interesting is the most recent intel I received . . . that our old spook buddy Lynch is on the same exact mission."

Face whistled and scratched his chin. B.A. almost choked on his bite of food.

"Lynch? What's that—how'd that fool—"

Face clapped him on the back to facilitate swallowing.

"So you think that Lynch might have caught on to them?" asked Murdock, slicing through his last piece of meat like a ninja. He very rarely took information on their possible capture out of stride. "HIYAHH!"

"Absolutely. Seems she was being a bit sloppy, let her guard down too much. But I don't think Lynch got her. Here. Look at this." Hannibal pulled out a picture he'd gotten from a 'friend' and put it on the table.

"Is that today?" asked Face, leaning in to look at the picture. It too was blurry, but Blaze's face could be slightly recognized.

Hannibal nodded. "Right outside that bar we went to last week. I think someone tagged us."

"Damn, you're right Face. She is hot," mumbled Murdock, staring at the picture.

A knowing smirk appeared on the conman's face. "Oh is she now? I'd never thought I'd hear you say that, buddy," replied Face.

The crazy pilot shrugged it off like usual and finished off his steak. "Yeah, just stating the obvious though. How old is she?"

"She's thirty-five," replied Hannibal, taking a quick drag on his cigar.

The four men sat in thoughtful silence around the table.

"Well what the hell do we do, Hannibal?" piped B.A. as he finished off his meal. Hannibal smirked.

"We find her, before she finds us."

* * *

>2100 hours, Moscow Russia<p>Abandoned Babaevsky Chocolate Warehouse, Interrogation Room<p>

* * *

>Charisa Sosa woke up with a roaring headache. Her skull was throbbing, and the urge to vomit was tickling the back of her throat. Trying to move, she noticed that she was tied down to something hard. . . a chair? Why were her arms strapped to this chairs arms and her feet to the legs? What was around her head?<p>"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes," said a familiar voice to her left. The Captain opened her eyes—the pain was almost even worse with the light—and sought out her captor.<p>

"Vance," she said simply, already guessing it was him. Involuntarily she tensed.

"In all my glory. Wow, isn't this nice? A chocolate factory? I feel like that kid Charlie, but I don't have a Golden Ticket. Unless you're it? Yeah, that seems about right. I have you, and soon that hacker and the A-team," he replied, walking closer her.

She glared as hard as she was able at him.

"What do you want from me?"

He laughed at her question.

"Nothing. You're just here for insurance. But, since you are here . . . " He stopped one step in front of her and reached for her head.

"I'll take your finger off," she threatened in a low voice, showing her teeth to give weight to the warning.

Lynch seemed amused. "No you won't," he contradicted, and snake-like, grabbed her chin with one hand and forced her mouth open with the other. Before she could struggle, he shoved a mouth guard between her teeth. Then, he held her jaw shut and told her in a voice that was almost concerned, "You're going to want to keep that in, baby."

He released her face and motioned to someone she hadn't noticed with his right hand.

Electricity rushed through her body, and the only coherent thought she was able to formulate was, "Shock chair?" as the current ripped through her. It threw her backwards, making her tensed muscles tighten even more painfully. The chair being bolted to the floor was the only thing that kept her upright as the current waxed and waned.

After an eternal moment of agony, the power was shut off. Charisa slumped against her restraints.

"I-I don't h-have anything of use for you," she stutter-spat, the mouth guard falling into her lap. Her words came out shaky and uneven. Her hair fell into messy strands in front of her face.

"Why, yes you do!" he told her gleefully, then paused and smiled to himself. "You have the latest information on the A-team and I could use that to my advantage. And plus, having your beautiful face here is just insurance that the pretty boy will come for you."

He smirked a little as he spoke, picked the mouth guard from her thigh and offered it to her with a sadistic grin. When she only watched him with dull eyes, he shoved it into her mouth and signaled again.

The electricity coursed through her body again.

* * *

>2130, Moscow, Russia<p>Bega Hotel, room 423<p>

* * *

>"Now explain to me again why I have to confront her?" asked Face, completely skeptical about this mission. Usually he didn't question Hannibal, but today was different. This woman was well trained, fluent in Russian—never mind she was an MP who was assigned to capture them. There was the good possibility he could have some problems.<p>"Because, Face, you're the man for this job—"<p>

"Face! Say: I'm the best there is at what I do! But what I do best isn't very nice!" Murdock interrupted with a giggle. "Come on, Facey! Just like Wolverine!"

Both Face and Hannibal gave their pilot an exasperated look. Hannibal recovered first and continued his thought.

"Listen Face. If you can get to Sosa, you can get to Blaze. I have faith in you," Hannibal continued, tapping the photo in the file.

By the small amount of info they were able to gather, there was a better than average chance she would be returning to that bar. She'd gone there on a regular basis since the night they'd been there.

"But why can't Murdock go? I mean, come on. He's good with languages and accents and things! He can even take down Bosco sometimes when he's got enough energy," complained Face, his lip pursing into a familiar pout.

Hannibal rolled his eyes and shook his head at the conman.

"Not today, Face. She's good with languages and smart. I need someone to woo her, and who better than our ladies' man? I hoped you brushed up on your Italian."

The conman gaped but recovered quickly. "I have. But we're in Russia, boss, not Italy."

"Well . . . you're just going to have to channel your inner Italian. You've got the skin...all we need is the hair. I've got the perfect thing." Hannibal pulled out a black mop of hair, brushed and shining in the dim light.

Face frowned at the pathetic excuse for hair.

"Boss, this is nuts."

Hannibal lightly breathed into his cigar and chuckled, smoke filling the room. The smoke danced around the walls until it finally disappeared.

"It gets better Face, trust me."

Face shook his head incredulously as his right hand wandered through his hair on instinct.

"This is nuts," the conman thought to himself, his hand still wandering through his bronze mane.

"Hey bossman, Bosco's got the chair ready," piped Murdock as he ran into the room with his usual red hat and a shirt that read: "Property of Billy" with two printed dog paws on the front, in homage for his dog. "Even Billy thinks it's awesome!"

"All right, Murdock. Face, let's get going."

* * *

>2145 hours, with Lynch and Sosa, Moscow, Russia<p><p>

* * *

>Shocks of electricity rippled through Sosa's body, which jerked and bucked at the touch of it. Lynch's face was twisted with evil delight as she wretched in pain. He wanted her to feel what he felt: total humiliation and pain.<p>"What bar did you last see them in? Where is she headed?" asked Lynch, speaking with a complete calmness. His eyes scanned her tired and tense body.<p>

"I-I don't k-know the name of it. I-I think...Kruzkha Bar. You can get to i-it by t-the Chistiye Prudy M-metro sec-section," she stuttered, her breath hard and staggered.

Lynch smiled beautifully at her, pleased with the results he'd gotten.

"Thank you. If you're not lying to me, I'll let you go."

He smiled at her again and sauntered out of the room. A gleeful stride took control of his usual one. Charisa watched him leave with a weak glare in her eye, for it is all she could muster.

"This is shit," she muttered to herself, struggling against the bonds against her wrists. She knew her mission was over. She hoped that Blaze would find the A-team and get her out. The only thing she didn't know is if she would be alive to see it.


	3. Shock Chair Blues

Chapter Three: Shock Chair Blues 

* * *

><p>2230 Hours, Moscow, Russia<p>

Kruzkha Bar

* * *

><p>Blaze wandered into the bar same bar she'd been holing up in for the past several days. She'd had no way to continue her mission, and searching for the A-team with just luck as a guide was hopeless.<p>

A disguised Face walked in right behind her. He'd memorized her looks from the fuzzy photographs and tagged her. He had followed her for a half mile, and she didn't even notice.

"One beer please. American beer," said Blaze, her eyes and demeanor dull. She'd pay extra for the imported brew just for a taste of home.

"Game time," Face thought, pumping himself up. Clumsily he walked into her while she waited for her drink.

"Watch where you're going!" Her voice was as pure as venom, a stinging noise.

"My apologies, bella," he replied, using a heavy Italian accent. It worked, because she turned to him. He wore a pair of darkened Aviators with the black wig, a button down shirt revealing his built chest partially, and straight jeans with dress shoes.

"Whatever," she mumbled, paying the bartender and turning back around.

So this was going to be a challenge. He had expected it, and no girl ever turned him down. Face sat down next to her and ordered a beer also.

"Never giving up?"

He smirked at her.

"Non è nella mia mentalità di rinunciare," he replied, running his right hand through his fake mop-of-a-hairstyle. It's not in my mindset to give up.

Her eyebrow arched, confusion washing over her face.

"E perché non è vero?" And why is it not?

Face knew he had wormed his way in through a crack, he was sure of it. Once you got women to start answering you, pretty soon you had them eating out of your hand. A small smile crept onto his tanned face.

"Sono stato addestrato non arrendersi mai, " he replied, taking off his glasses, getting up and winking at her. I was trained never to give up.

She froze mentally and physically. She knew those eyes, she'd studied enough photos of them to recognize them in her sleep.

Face dropped some cash on the bar and left his untouched drink as he walked out bar, smirking widely. He knew that she would follow him. He felt it in his gut.

Blaze's instincts began to go wild as he walked away from her. She knew those eyes. Two members of the A-Team had blue eyes, and only one had the crystal blue of an open sky. Ex-Lieutenant Templeton "Faceman" Peck. She copied his motion of throwing money down and leaving her drink. Getting up and racing after him, she extracted her sidearm.

"Hey!" she screamed, running towards the conman now revealed.

Although he'd been walking casually down the street, he'd been waiting for her to exit the establishment. At her cry he knew the gig was up; he whipped off the wig and ran for his life. Running towards the rendezvous was harder than it looked with a determined MP on your tail the whole time.

"Stop!"

"In your dreams, babe!" he replied as he ran towards an alley about a mile away from the bar.

He almost made it too, cursing the part of Hannibal's plan that needed him to run so far. He'd been sprinting for a whole mile, and he was exhausted. It wasn't as difficult as when carrying 70 pounds worth of gear, but it still wasn't pleasant.

Blaze came up behind him, gun pointing at his bronze hair.

"Templeton Peck," she said simply, the gun pressing lightly to the back of his head.

He had the same look grim look as he did when Pike was about to kill him, knowing his demise might come if Murdock's timing was completely off.

"Cyrus! A pleasure to finally meet the woman on our trail," he replied, using his best I'm-macho-but-I'm-scared voice. That technique worked before to buy him some time, and he hoped it would work again now.

"Pleasure to meet the man that seems to know every kind of con out there," she stated, the gun inching from the back of his head to nudge his ear.

He breathed out a bit, the force pushing the loose hairs out of his face.

"Well, I can't say I shouldn't really be surprised," he said, slowly taking in a heavy breath.

"Come on Murdock. Really?" he thought, sweat dripping down his tan face.

Her eyebrow arched once again.

"Surprised about wha—"

The gun was taken from his head as he heard the unmistakable noise of a body dropping to the ground behind him. He'd heard it plenty of times after B.A. needed to be drugged for a plane ride.

"I GOT HER! YES!" screamed the crazy pilot behind him, doing a little dance move just as Face turned around.

He smirked and dusted off his clothes.

"Took you long enough. You were supposed to catch her, remember?" he complained, staring down at the woman. "She really is hot, eh, buddy?"

Murdock nodded and shrugged, just stating the obvious like usual.

"Let's get her to the base."

* * *

><p>0300 hours, Moscow, Russia<p>

Abandoned Warehouse near motel

* * *

><p>Blaze woke up to her hands being tied behind her back and a sharp pain in her head. It felt like she'd been knocked out and eventually had fallen to the floor.<p>

Great, she thought.

"Ah, finally awake!" said a voice in front of her, forcing her to open her heavy eyes.

She recognzied that voice from earlier, or from a dream.

"Have some good dreams?"

She looked up at the man in front of her, her eyes blurry from disorientation.

"Wh-what the hell?" she managed, shaking her head to clear away the haziness. She forced herself to glare directly at not one, but four men in front of her.

They were all there. John 'Hannibal' Smith, Templeton 'Faceman' Peck, Bosco 'B.A.' Baracus, and James 'Howlin Mad' Murdock.

"Oh, hell no."

"Oh, hell yes," replied the voice. It sounded like he was smirking.

She looked down at herself, a wave of fright running through her. Flashes of her past flipped through her mind like a digital video gallery. Her at five, tied to THE CHAIR and being hurt by her parents. At seven, her father using THE CHAIR as a way to get back at her for calling the cops. She ran away and tried to join the army young to avoid it. But she was underage, and when her parents found her they send her to a juvenile detention ward, telling the doctors and nurses there she was a habitual liar and a danger to herself, and possibly to other people. It titled her as mentally unstable. Luckily those records were sealed when she reached legal age.

"How'd you—why am I—"

She began to freak out, her eyes showing going wider and her breath coming in uneven pants. She tried to struggle against her bonds, then stopped and ducked as if she expected to be hit. Her questions went unfinished as panic closed her throat.

Murdock dropped into a crouch in front of her, looking intently into her eyes. He recognized that mounting fear. He'd experienced it himself, and seen it enough in fellow patients.

"We gotta untie her," said Murdock forcefully.

Face gave him an incredulous look.

"What? She'll attack us!" replied the conman, pointing at her.

She pilot rolled his eyes and tugged his hat down tighter on his head.

"It shall be a challenge, dear sir," Murdock agreed regretfully, in a proper British accent. "She is, as they say, having the crazed look within the eyes that only another of the mental unstable may recognize. Set the dear maiden free!"

Face didn't buy his persuasion.

"No way, buddy. Sorry, but I'm not—umph!" began Face.

He interrupted himself as he ducked an object hurtling towards him. It was a chair, thrown by B.A. to show him to listen to Murdock.

"Let her go, I agree with Murdock. She does look . . . uncomfortable."

"She's not our prisoner, Face. She's someone who'll be helping us, soon enough," Hannibal stated, looking at the MP with a bit of a sad look.

She still looked panicked, edging closer to a point of no mental return. Being tied up to THE CHAIR and argued about as if she wasn't there was not part of any plan.

"All right! All right! Fine!" Face replied, reluctantly taking the key for the handcuffs and moving behind the MP.

Slipping the key into the slot, he turned the lock and unlocked the cuffs.

After that, everything happened at once. Blaze jumped up out of the chair, alternating rubbing her wrists and her head, to remove the feelings from both of them. Face trained a gun on her, making sure she wouldn't do anything.

"Bad decision," said Blaze simply, the words heavy with warning.

He chuckled.

"And what can you do?" he mocked, keeping the gun pointed on her.

She shrugged.

"This."

She whipped around, using her forearm to push the gun away from her back. As he hurried to re-sight her, she grabbed his belt and hooked a leg around his, forcing him to the floor. He yelped and fell to the floor, landing on his back with the gun discarded. She scrambled reached for the gun and reversed it on him.

Face glared, back slightly hurting from the fall. He cautiously got back on his feet.

"Damn! I like her!" said B.A., who had watched the unexpected chain of events with glee.

She was smiling to herself, thankful that at least someone would like her.

"Okay, I'm not here to fight," she said. She uncocked the weapon and offered it grip first to Hannibal. She gave him an honest look. "I'm was looking for you to hire you."

Face's jaw dropped.

"Hire us? Hire us? What kind of United States MP hires federal fugitives?" he demanded, completely caught off-guard.

"The kind who a: believes they are innocent, and b: needs help getting her superior back." Faceman Peck isn't the only one who can lie through his teeth, Blaze thought to herself.

Hannibal now seemed to be interested. His eyebrow arched as he lit a cigar.

"What've you got for us kid?" asked Hannibal as Murdock chased something only he could see close across the floor. As Blaze watched him, she sighed and shook her head.

"Some man named Lynch captured Captain Sosa. He may have another alias. Vance Baressess I think? He and his men attacked our hotel room. They killed guy in the unit and wounded another.

"The last thing Ravech said to me before I left him in the hospital was that Sosa said to find you guys, and that's where this situation came into play. It's not that I don't want to go in there and be all epic, but my skills aren't good enough to take on an army of former Russian Op agents."

Hannibal nodded his head in understanding. He knew what that felt like, he knew about the odds.

"Well, it seems you can take care of yourself. At least a little bit," piped in Face, grudgingly.

She shrugged and shifted on her feet, rubbing her neck from the needle inject wound.

"Yeah, that's what training with some Rangers in Baghdad'll do to yah. Not those Black Forest creeps, but real soldiers. Also a British special Ops team."

Hannibal raised an eyebrow to that.

"Special Ops team in England?" questioned Murdock. He had gotten whatever he'd been chasing under control and was now holding onto what looked like was an imaginary string.

"Trained by Soap MacTavish and Captain Price."

"Good men, too, even if Soap was stabbed in the stomach," Murdock nodded, seeming satisfied.

Hannibal grinned to himself, the smile showing the 'jazz', as B.A. had christened it. It was the ex-Colonel's own brand of crazy. It wasn't Murdock crazy, but in B.A.'s mind, almost just as bad.

Face saw the look too, and opened his mouth to stop the next words from Hannibal. He wasn't going to stand for this—this woman was assigned to capture them, to take them back to the US to finish out their surely-extended maximum security prison sentence, and he wasn't about to do something as utterly foolish as that—

"Well, kid. Looks like you've hired the A-team."

Face didn't get a chance to get his words in order before Hannibal sealed their fate.


	4. Hannibal Lecter

Chapter Four: Hannibal Lecter

* * *

>0111 hours, Moscow, Russia<p>Abandoned Warehouse near hotel<p>

* * *

>Face rubbed his face lightly as he got ready for bed. With the constant talking between Blaze and Murdock about algebraic expressions and math, his head began to hurt. It didn't shock him, however, that the two got along. The crazed look in her eyes earlier proved it.<p>He didn't trust her, that's for sure, and wasn't sure he never could.<p>

She was impulsive, smart, tricky, and deceiving. Just like him, but one thing set them apart. She was a still military, and her assignment was still their capture. He was a fugitive and a conman. It had no chance to work.

Besides, he had Charisa...right? Face groaned and rubbed his face again, jumbled thoughts running through his head. He hadn't forced his brain into so many mental gymnastics since...since he got out of jail. Since he tried to stop Lynch. Now look where it got him, headaches and rubbing his face so much he was sure he'd crease his skin into permanent wrinkles; all that jazz.

Jazz, that's what got him here. Hannibal and his jazz. Both B.A. and Face thought Hannibal was as crazy as Murdock, but he never experienced that kind of crazy.

"God, what have I gotten myself into," he muttered, hands gripping the sides of the beaten sink. His hair was thrown around in different places, not gelled back like usual. Blue eyes averted to the reflection of the clock.

It read 1:11.

"I don't know Face, what have you gotten yourself into?" asked a voice behind him.

Face spun around, and breathed a sigh of relief when Hannibal appeared in his line of sight.

"Too much, really. You know, Hannibal, you're crazy on the jazz."

Hannibal smirked at Face. Face both enjoyed and hated that smirk; it meant the boss had something up his sleeve.

"You don't trust my judgment?"

Face sighed and shook his head. "Hannibal, am I the only one that sees who she really is? She's a wild card. We don't know that she's not going to just double cross us! She's just—"

"—like you," Hannibal interrupted. "Face, she's you...only slightly smarter and a bit crazy. I know it seems like it's a big risk, but she is the one thing we need. My best judgment is to add her to our team once this mission to rescue Sosa is over."

Face's eyes went wide at Hannibal's words.

"No! Y-you can't! Having one crazy person on the team—" He shook his head in continued disbelief. "And she's still commissioned. You think you're going to convince her to just go on the run and throw away everything she's ever worked for? You think she's going to give it all up to spend her life running away?"

Hannibal listened to the impassioned speech politely.

"There are a few bumps in the plan," he agreed off-handedly, as if that was the least of his worries. "But I think once she gets the taste of freedom, of working outside legal jurisdiction, she may be swayed.

Just because you're having some issues with her, Face, doesn't mean the rest of us aren't enjoying her company. And she's already begun to try and find Lynch."

"And then what? What happens if she decides to turn us into the Military Police after we rescue Charisa? Even if we even do? What then? Life in prison! That's what Hannibal!" Face slammed his fists on the sink, a growl grumbling in his throat.

"Face, you have trust issues. How long did it take you to trust me? Almost three years, that's how long. Being in that orphanage skewed your perception. You know this! I trust her, Murdock trusts her, even B.A. trusts her. And you know it's hard for B.A. to trust anyone after Mexico."

"But Hannibal—" Face turned around slowly to look at him, flooded with memories of everything he'd gone through.

Being placed in foster home after foster home. Realizing no one really wanted him. No one really cared for him. It all happened to him. Eventually, when the system didn't seem to work for him any longer, he was taken in by the church. He grew close to one Father in general. That man helped him find his way, and urged him make something of his life; to find new purpose through the army.

"Face, you trust me, don't you?" asked Hannibal, who looked at the young man in front of him. Face looked scared, and confused.

"Yes but—"

"Then please trust me on this. I trust her, and even if she wasn't Military Police and was a junkie in the streets I'd still trust her. She's one of those people I'd instantly trust. Now get your sleep, Face. We need that face of yours to con more things than you can think of in the future, especially that cologne. Works like a charm on the ladies."

Face smirked and nodded as Hannibal left his line of sight.

"Damn. Sometimes he worms into my brain. He reminds me of Hannibal Lecter," mumbled Face, to himself. Staring at himself in the mirror, he noted the enormous bags under his pale, blue eyes. That wasn't pretty.

"Well, I won't eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti." said Hannibal behind, winking through the mirrors reflection and actually walking out this time.

Face shook his head and snickered. Somehow he always makes me feel better, thought Face. He smirked and turned off the lights, hopping into his bed and falling into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

>That morning...<p>"G'morning Facey! Want some eggs?" asked a cheery Murdock, who almost pounced on Face while he walked through the door. He noticed all of his team, including Blaze, were in the kitchen.<p>

"Sure, why not?" replied Face, who sat down next to Hannibal, noticing his meal. "Fava beans? No sane person would eat those."

Hannibal smirked. "Who says I'm sane?" He bit into the bean and kept the smirk on his face.

"You're sane, I'm not," said Murdock, placing a plate of eggs in front of Face. The conman nodded and dug into them, stomach aching for the food. "And it's been proven by many doctors."

"Everyone's crazy according to them. In my humble but accurate opinion they are probably crazy as you are. Like that German one you described to me," said Blaze. She was hidden behind a computer screen, top of her head barely visible. When she glanced over the computer, her glasses reflected the screen in front of her.

"You can look at that and talk to all'o'us? Damn! I still like her!" exclaimed B.A., still tinkering with the contraption from the other night.

She shrugged and sipped on coffee.

"All while pulling an all nighter. Yeah buddy, I'm a genius. But this is going to be hard. I'll see if I can tap into his communications and find out about the place Captain Sosa and I were checking out," she replied, using one hand to cut eggs with her fork and shove it in her mouth.

"Which is where?" asked Hannibal, sliding his finished plate of beans out of the way.

Face grimaced as the plate neared him, eyeing Hannibal with concern.

"An abandoned Babaevsky Chocolate Factory. One that's actually livable," Blaze replied as she shut her computer and sighed. "It's going to be hard though."

"Guards everywhere you look, danger at every turn? Usual for us." said Face matter-of-factly.

Blaze smirked and nodded.

"That is why I hired you."

Face nodded at her statement and harmlessly chewed on some eggs.

"Face, if she goes to check it out, you are going with her."

Face choked as Hannibal spoke. He spit the contents of his breakfast that were in his mouth out on the table.

"Aww, I spent all morning on those! EVEN BILLY HELPED!" grieved Murdock, falling on his knees and taking his hat off. "It's okay Billy, we'll make more that Face will actually eat and not use as a spit projectile."

Murdock changed accents from Southern to British in one breath.

"I think that's a great idea. Besides, I need to get to know the man I keep hearing I'm like," Blaze stated, moving her computer over to the counter and crouching next to Murdock. "I thought your eggs were excellent, Billy. You and Murdock did a great job."

Murdock smiled. "At least some people like my eggs."

He stood up, huffed, and walked out while holding the invisible leash of Billy in his right hand.

"So when are we heading out?" asked Face meekly. Blaze's eyes burned through his, a happy look in between them.

"Soon, so get ready."


	5. Blood and Chocolate

Chapter Five: Blood and chocolate

* * *

><p>1300 hours, Moscow Russia<p>

Babaevesky Chocolate Factory

* * *

><p>"You see anything?"<p>

"No."

Silence filled the air between them as Face and Blaze stood across the street from the factory. It was a busy street, but the factory was always overlooked.

Face groaned and slumped against the wall, hands lazily going inside his pockets. He wore his hood up, with a pair of beat up glasses to cover his eyes. His normal black wingtips had been replaced with a pair of Murdock's combat boots.

He looked like a street rat, and so did she.

"Wait...Lynch is moving," she mumbled, stepping back into the shadows of the alley they were using. Face followed her lead, moving with feigned indifference.

It was a close space, so their bodies pressed against each other. That was fine; it gave the illusion of the two of them overcome by lust and making out on the street was the result.

"Don't move." Face put his face to her neck, his breath causing her to shiver. "Just act like a typical street rat, just hanging around."  
>She nodded, eyes secretly watching the oncoming Lynch.<p>

"At least we know he's here," she whispered back, her mouth dangerously close to his.

"Hey, you guys got a problem? This section is off limits. See the sign?" asked Lynch, coming up to them.

Both Face and Blaze kept their hoods down, each looking at each other, wondering what to do. Best to play this out. Act like a couple of desperate, in-love twenty-somethings, just minding their own business—

"Я не понимаю английски." replied Blaze, slipping a pair of tinted glasses onto her head and turning towards Lynch.

He didn't recognize her. "Okay, somebody translate. I don't speak any freakin' foreign languages, and I'm not starting now. You, Victor—can you speak Russian?" Lynch pointed to one of his men.

The man nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good, now tell me what this piece of homeless trash said."

"She said, 'I don't speak English.'"

Lynch smirked. "Ask her if she's seen any of these men."

He handed her a picture. It was of the team.

The guard nodded. "Вы видели какой-либо из этих людей."

Blaze shook her head. "не, так как на прошлой неделе."

Lynch arched an eyebrow. "What did she say?"

The guard pulled his eyebrows together. "'Not since last week.'"

"What?" Lynch stepped towards Blaze and glared at her. "Get this translation, bitch. I want them found, and I'll pay good money."

The guard looked at Blaze. "Я хочу их найти, и я буду платить хорошие деньги."

Blaze shook her head. "Их нет, так что ищите."

"She said, 'They're gone, so keep looking'."

Lynch let his breath out dramatically. "All right, sweetie. But I'll be coming back."

"Good luck on your search," Blaze spoke in a Russian accent, smirking as she and Face backed into the shadows. "Run."

Face was first to dart out of the small space, hopping over a near by fence; Blaze followed in close behind. She jumped the fence, looking almost cat-like as she gracefully hit the floor.

"Damn, you gotta teach me how to do that." said Face, smirking at her.

She shrugged. "All in good time, comrade." Speaking still in the Russian accent, Blaze tried to find their abandoned car.

"You're not serious right? Accents?"

"What? You try to blend into the crowd. As I recall, Murdock said you were a 'Master of Disguise'. Then blend. We should really get going to the car, anyways. It's dangerous out here and I suspect Lynch is looking for us. I was too suspicious," she mumbled, still using the accent.

"Yah think?" Face rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I do think! It's not everyday that I get to talk in my Russian accent!"she hissed, maneuvering through the crowded streets of Moscow.

He followed her. "I meant the whole, 'I don't speak English,' followed by telling him, IN ENGLISH, 'Good luck on your search!' And telling me to run? And what the hell—try not to be as solid with the information! 'They're gone'? SERIOUSLY? No way will Lynch believe that, especially from a someone he thinks is a homeless person!" Face stopped his tirade to catch his breath. "And seriously, would someone here in Moscow turn down money? Maybe you should have told him that you'd seen us around, and you'd keep your eyes peeled for us . . . that would have made him less suspicious!"

She stopped in her steps, turning to him, her eyes blazing. "Listen Face, I'm helping all of you. B.A., Hannibal, Murdock, and you! And honestly? I could probably be arrested because of it! But I'm doing it because I'm one of the only MPs that believes you all are innocent, not just some crazy-** soldiers of fortune that are in it for the money. I actually believe that you all were framed!"

He stopped and returned her glare while taking in her posture. He was good at reading people. She wasn't open like she'd been with Murdock. No, along with the obvious anger, her posture was closed off, like she was defending herself from something.

"You don't trust me," he told her definitively.

"Oh, impressive work, Sherlock. Hell no I don't trust you!" she replied, rolling her eyes a bit. "Just because I think you were framed doesn't mean I trust you. You'd actually think I'm that dumb? Trust a con artist?"

"No, probably not," he muttered, and as she stomped off, he continued to follow her, until they reached a familiar, black beater.

"Good. We understand each other." she spat, starting the car and pulling out of the garage.

They drove to the hide out, an uncomfortable silence filling the car. Distance wise, the hide out wasn't far, but with the traffic of Moscow, it took longer than it should.

Finally they reached their temporary HQ. Face muttered about MPs and how unreasonable and thick-headed they could be. Blaze tried to ignore him, said something half under her breath about conmen being jerks, and put up a non-verbal wall as she walked into the building.

B.A. was still tinkering with something—the same thing, what was that?—while sitting on a chair near a radio. Murdock was playing a video game on what a handheld; it sounded like Call of Duty. Hannibal sat at a table, looking through some files.

His head popped up as he heard the door slam shut. "So?" he asked, looking at the pair.

Blaze nodded at him. "He's there."

* * *

><p><strong>HEY! Sorry for the late update, I have been trying my luck at new stories...but I really haven't thought of much. So I have an update for ya'll! Hope you enjoy!<strong>

**And I thank Hoodoo, who is an amazing betareader/co-writer! They caught all my mistakes and helped with everything. So I thank them!**

**As always...stay classic!**

**~gleek2**

**P.S.=Gimli and Legolas have an epic drinking game in LOTR, watch it. it'll make you laugh!**


	6. Flash back

Chapter Six: Flash back

1800 hours, Moscow, Russia  
>A-team baseabandoned warehouse

Blaze was typing a message to her superior, trying to convince him that Sosa was still with her and that was going smoothly. Even if that was a bald-faced lie.  
>She was so intent on her typing that she didn't notice Face come and sit across from her, a cup of coffee in his right hand. He eyed her for a second, seeing if she would notice him on her own time.<p>

She didn't acknowledge him.

He sat very quietly for a bit, his thoughts tumbling over and over in his head like they were caught in a whirlpool. There were so many things he wanted to know; he just wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Typically he could charm fish out of water, but with her . . . somehow he just felt off-balance.

Face decided to drop any pretense and just ask. "So why do you think we're innocent?" he said. His voice was louder and more harsh than he expected it to be. Its tone caught the attention of the occupied MP.

She looked up at him, eyes weary from long nights.

"Just because. I thought you all didn't exactly look like the crazy soldier of fortune type." she joked. She went back to typing, as if ignoring him again would make him go away.

He chuckled, sipping his coffee. She was lying. He could always tell when people were lying, it was one of his most reliable assets. "You're lying."

"I'm not lying, Face. Seriously." she replied, shaking her head.

He chuckled again. "Seriously? No. You're lying. I know because I do it all the time!" he exclaimed.

She looked up at him again and a giggle escaped against her will. She closed the laptop and sighed, "Fine. Since it's obvious you aren't going to leave me alone otherwise."

She breathed out nervously. "It was about seventeen years ago when I joined the Military Police. I had to go through those MP training camps, you know? And my Sergeant was a jerk. He always made us run more than the others, and tortured us like slaves..."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Seventeen years ago...<em>**

_A younger Blaze ran as fast as she could through the obstacle course, he body being pushed to its limits. She had, already, sprained her two ankles in her short time at the camp, and they were just this side of being bearable. But they were still sprained, and she was running on them._

_"KEEP GOING MORRIGAN! I DON'T WANNA SEE YOU STOP UNTIL YOU'VE CROSSED THAT LINE! LET'S GO GO GO! FINISH THIS DAMN COURSE!" screamed her Sergeant, yelling at the top of his lungs. _

_Sergeant Henry Wilcox was a strict man, graying and balding. He was usually grumpy and moody, making training session for his team unbearable to those who weren't used to it._

_Blaze climbed up a wall as fast as her ankles would take her, wondering why she had to do this if she was going to work at a desk all day. She was a hacker, not a fighter._

_"SERGEANT! CALL YOUR MEN!" screamed the General of the base, calling all to attention._

_Her attention went immediately to him, making her fall on her ankles. Groaning in pain, she grabbed them, trying to rub the pain out of that part of her body. The ache never stopped though._

_"MORRIGAN! Get over here!" he screamed, glaring at her through sunglasses._

_She glared back. "My ankles and sprained, sir. I can't move." she replied, trying her best not to have an acidic tone with her._

_The general raised an eyebrow, motioning to someone to pick her up. "Smith, get her for me."_

_A young man with pepper colored hair nodded, walking over to her with a stone-cold facade on. His expression softened as he neared her, picking her up slowly, in a parody of a groom carrying his bride. _

_"It's okay," he whispered, voice wise beyond his years, "I had Wilcox too. This should be his last day."_

_She smiled and nodded, still in pain._

_"Morrigan," began the general as Smith neared him with her in his hands, "how has training been?"_

_She stiffened in his arms, mouth forming into a slight snarl. "Hell, sir."_

_He laughed low, almost like a growl. "I believe so. Has he been making you run with sprain ankles?"_

_She nodded. "Yes sir. He believes that I am, and I quote, 'Weak and in need of reformation'," she replied, nodding towards him._

_The general scratched his bearded chin. "Humph." He looked at the other trainees. "Is this true?"_

_The trainees nodded. "Yes sir!" they all answered, male voices dominating over everything._

_The general, looking pleased, turned to Wilcox. "You have been training at this camp for many years, but your techniques are medieval and cruel. I believe it is time for you to retire, Wilcox. Smith, take her to the infirmary."_

_The man carrying her nodded, walking towards a building with a red cross on it. _

_Blaze seemed happy that she was finally going to be treated right. Her ankles had suffered enough. "So what do I call you? It can't just be Smith. That's a gay nickname, no offense," she said as they entered the building. "Unless it's Smitty, and that's even worse."_

_A nurse directed him to a room, where he placed her._

_"Call me Hannibal," he said, smiling at her and walking out._

* * *

><p>"Whoa! Hannibal did that for you?" interrupted Face, surprised.<p>

She smiled and nodded. "I didn't recognize him at first, but the voice won me over and I knew I should help you guys. Plus, I told Sosa this story. That's probably why she wanted me to hire you all, because of him," she replied, smiling as Hannibal came through the room.

"You tell him the story?" he asked, pouring coffee for himself.

"Yeah. Explains my rather weird trust, don't you agree?" she joked, smiling at the salt-and-pepper haired old man.

He laughed. "Yeah, it does."

Face got confused, waving his hand in the air. "Wait, wait, wait, wait. How does that explain how you trust us then?" he asked, still, somewhat, confused.

She smiled and said with a shrug, "I know Hannibal wouldn't pick untrustworthy or dishonorable men."

Face nodded, seemingly satisfied, for now.


	7. Murdock's day out

**Note: This is a witty, filler chapter that I decided to do! We need some Murdock craziness in my story[since there hasn't been much...btw] and this is kinda a filler while I'm at school!**

**Enjoy! And everyone thank Hoodoo!**

* * *

><p>Chapter Seven: Murdock's day out<p>

1700 hours Moscow, Russia  
>On a street with Murdock<p>

The one thing about Murdock, he loves to walk around places. Especially places he'd never been before. Russia was like a playground to him. And oh, was he going to slide down that slide.

It was his free day, his day where he didn't have to sit down and watch everyone else go out and play. It was his day today, his day to go out! And he was excited...more excited than he should be.

"I don't understand, muchacho! I don't speak Russian! No comprende!" said Murdock, who was talking to a homeless man.  
>The homeless man began to curse at Murdock, cursing him for his stupidity.<p>

"SHUT UP! Agh, this isn't worth it!" he cried, rolling his blue eyes and walking away from the homeless man.

As he walked away, Murdock heard the old, homeless man curse him in Russian again. All Murdock could do was walk away...and laugh his crazy laugh of  
>course.<p>

The pilot hadn't done much on the streets, mostly kept inside. His identity was to be hidden from view.

Honestly, who would want to know that a labeled 'crazy' fugitive was hiding in their country? And plus, was being hunted constantly by the United States Goverment/Military/Armed forces?

Well, he really didn't know any answer to that question, just knew he wouldn't want him to be in his country if he owned one.

Murdock kept walking, a pep in his usual step and a smirk plastered on his face. The sun was shining, something rare in Russia, and it was hot. Very hot, and he was sweating.

Ahead, Murdock saw an old library, labeled "Julio's Books", and decided to walk inside the foreign book store. When he reached the store, however, he noticed a very familiar face.

Lynch, the old one.

"Oh country fried chicken!" he whispered (he worked hard not to yell) to himself, running into the store and hiding in an aisle. He pulled a hat off a nearby rack and put it over his long, messy, blonde mane.

"Yeah, she's still there. Yep, definitely going to work towards what you want, comrade." A pause came from Lynch. "So you don't want her dead?"

Another pause.

"OH! You're going to barter her. Mm'kay, whatever. And how much do I get from selling you this woman? Which one? Charisa, of course her! She's my main prize, but'll cost yah extra."

A longer pause, with showed obvious ranting.

"Fine, same price! But you're lucky, comrade. If she wasn't such trouble, I wouldn't have wanted to sell her for that much! Well, 'course she's a  
>trouble!"<p>

Another, shorter pause.

"All right, thanks. Yeah, okay," Lynch said, hanging up his phone and walking out of the store.

Murdock's eyes went huge. His mind was running races.

They're going to sell her! He thought, scratching his head; the cap slid off. Oh my, I gotta tell Hannibal!

As soon as he thought it, Murdock raced out of the store (being careful to avoid Lynch and his goonies, of course), and tried to find his way back to HQ.

* * *

><p>1800 hours<br>A-team HQ

* * *

><p>As Hannibal, B.A., and Face entertained themselves with a fair (except for Face, who always cheated) game of poker, Blaze typed away on her computer. It wasn't that unusual for their nights, except for the missing character of Murdock and his many...personalities and accents.<p>

Right on cue, Murdock ran into the building. His cheeks were beat red and his breathing was heavy.

"Hobo...Walking...Bookstore...Lynch...Sosa...sell...AGH!" he breathed, slouching and putting his hands on his knees. He continued taking couple of heavy breaths.

Hannibal stood, throwing his cards on the table and walking over to Murdock. "What is it, son? What happened?"

After many tense moments of watching their pilot gasp for breath—Face took advantage of the distraction to look at Hannibal's cards, replacing some of his own with the old man's—Murdock was finally able to talk.

"I was walking down the street, trying to ignore some old Russian hobo cursing at me, when I saw a bookstore! I wanted to see if they had anything I'd like to read, so I went in. When I went inside the bookstore, however, Lynch was there talking to some guy over the phone. He definitely has Sosa, and he wants to sell her to that guy over the phone. If we want to rescue her, it better be soon!" said the pilot, completing his rant and sitting down in Hannibal's seat.

He noticed the cards and picked them up, a goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Hey! Hannibal's got a Full House!" he screeched, while a rather confused look secured itself on Face's hansome features.

Hannibal, laughing, lit a cigar. "It looks like we got work to do."


	8. Country Friend Chicken brings lovin'

**NOTICE: I don't own the a-team, jsut the idea for the story and my OC's.**

**AND CHAPTER Eight! YAY!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight: Country Friend Chicken brings lovin'<strong>

* * *

><p>1500 hours, Moscow, Russia<p>

A-team HQ, The Kitchen

* * *

><p>Blaze laughed at Murdock as he and Face tried to make fried chicken. Or some kind of chicken; they had the ingredients for fried chicken, but it wasn't coming together well. They weren't doing so great.<p>

Face had managed to almost blow up the stove, setting it to over 500, and also had flour and egg all over him. Murdock, on the other hand, had managed to get bits of slimy bits of chicken and sprayable grease on his shirt and face.

"You guys look ridiculous! Are you sure you don't want B.A. to make it?" she asked, trying to contain a laugh as she looked at the two.

These two had always been partners in crime, doing almost everything and anything together. In their old HQ in Iraq, they had managed to do so many things, including steal all of Morrison's cigars and replace them with lookalike cigars filled with paprika (how Face conned the spice, no one knew), set two of the Black Forest guys up with each other (each personally thought that they were going to meet a local girl who would 'give herself fully' to any honest and truthful American soldier), and many other devious and/or evil pranks against about everyone.

But now, the two pranksters were being laughed at by a hacker.

"Shut up!" screamed Face, whipping some of the flour off his face which just led to heavier streaks. "UGH!"

Murdock patted Face's back. "Aww, don't get mad Facey! But I seriously think we should let B.A. do it. We're faillin' at this, my dear sir."

He switched his accents quickly, bowing a bit to the equally dirty Face.

Face huffed and nodded.

"B.A.!" screamed Blaze, cupping her hands at the sides of her mouth, "YOU CAN MAKE YOUR CHICKEN NOW!"

After several seconds of waiting, B.A. bounded through the door with a smirk on his face. "Well it took you crazy-ass-fools long enough to mess it up!" He looked around. "Why's the oven on? FRIED chicken is FRIED, not baked! Damn! It looks like a hurricane went thro' here!"

Blaze agreed. "Named James or Templeton. If you excuse me." She walked out, laughing as she did.

Even in the midst of the mess, Face couldn't help but stare at her with a certain lust in his eyes while she left.

"Umm...Facey? You've got a little something . . ." said Murdock. He motioned towards his friend's chin, and pantomimed wiping.

"I know! I got it! I'm covered in flour! I'm a horrible mess!"

"No . . . it's more like . . . drool?"

Reaching up, he did find a tiny bit of wetness at the corner of his lips. Damn it! Now he looked like some kind of horny teenager! Did B.A. see it too? What was Murdock going to think . . . well, that was a difficult question in most circumstances, but this seemed different. Face pondered on that for a moment. Why did it seem different? Murdock had seen him leering after women before. Lots of times! But this . . . this about Blaze felt . . .

He couldn't find the right word to label it.

Wiping the drool away, Face straightened up and cleared his throat right as Hannibal came in.

"So I'm guessing that something outstandingly hilarious happened by the way she's laughing? And by the way, nice war paint," joked Hannibal, walking over to the ancient and rusted fridge to grab a beer.

"Yes, Hannibal, Murdock and I had a food fight," said Face, using his pouty lip. "It was fun, though."

The old man laughed. "I bet."

He scratched his chin while surveying his team.

"So Face..." began B.A.

"Yes, Bosco?"

"When are ya finally gonna kiss the girl!" screamed the mechanic, giving him his best 'duh, you're an idiot' look.

Face scoffed, sitting down on the nearest table. "I dunno what you're talking about."

Hannibal laughed. "Face, don't deny it. There isn't a better time than now."

Face scoffed once again.

"But I'm supposed to be in love with Charissa! Charissa! Once Blaze came here, it went POW! right out the window! I don't get it! Is there such a thing as love at first sight?" asked Face, completely confused.

"I've learned," said Hannibal, opening his beer, "that it's better to do the things that don't seem rational or correct at the time. Because once you do them, you'll realize that they're the right thing to do."

Face smiled. "You rock, old man."

1515 hours, Moscow, Russia  
>A-team HQ, Blaze's room<p>

Blaze was typing furiously on her computer, messing up every few strokes, causing her to backspace and redo the incorrect typing. It annoyed her that she did this, because she never messed up anything.

Okay, well that wasn't true. She messed up on her SAT's, and got herself a deadbeat boyfriend once that expected her to just to everything at his whim, and her mom who always yelled at her for nothing. All she did was become the army. She'd messed up on a lot of things, but she'd never admit it.

Her pride was too much to admit it.

When she had finally finished correcting every stupid typing mistake, Face burst through her door.

She turned around. "Face?"

He'd at least cleaned most of his face off. There were still lingering traces of flour on the outer portions of his cheeks, but he'd scrubbed hard enough to make the other previously marked areas slightly red. His lips where a deeper shade too, as if he'd scrubbed them too. Or bitten them. Blaze couldn't decide to stare at his ice blue eyes, or those lips . . .

He didn't respond, but instead closed the gap between them and without giving warning, swept her into an embrace and locked his mouth over hers in a passionate kiss. Blaze couldn't respond, couldn't move.

She couldn't do anything.

All she could think about was the sensation of Face's lips, Templeton 'Face' Peck's, on hers.

And how much she loved it.

* * *

><p><strong>TADA! I told you I'd get some...err...some OC action in there :)<strong>

**MERHER! Okay, so everyone thank Hoodoo!**

**And I want people's reviews! Because obvoiusly ya'll are reading, but not reviewing! But thank you for reading anways.**

**Until next time, dear readers!**

**~gleek2**


	9. Into the Mouth of the Lion

I don't own A-team.

* * *

><p>Chapter Nine: Into the Mouth of the Lion<p>

Hannibal finally decided to lay out the plan: what they had to do, and what had to happen in order for everything to go right. Of course, if everything played out the way it was supposed to, nothing would really be a problem. That was always the way with Hannibal's plans.

Unless, of course, people recognized who she was and decided to start shooting at Blaze and Face as they tried to get Sosa out. No biggie.

Blaze called attention to one minor detail, something that didn't seem logistically possible to her.

"You can't send B.A. through the ventilation shaft! No offense big guy, but you're too muscular and big, and plus who knows if the rusted metal could hold his weight? Wouldn't it be better if Murdock or you did it?" she asked, her eyebrow raising slightly as Hannibal laughed at her.

"They would've replaced it since they're using it, right? Who wouldn't want heating in this weather? Anyway, listen up," he stated, taking a drag on his cigar slightly before setting it down.

_"Face_,_ you and Blaze will make your way through the front, disguised. Let her do most of the talking, since she's fluent in Russian and is portraying an interested client. You will be her. . .bodyguard, protecting her from any 'danger' in the streets."_

She and Face walked in, them both in disguises. She wore a white, button up blouse with the first two buttons undone, neatly pressed and with no stains or creases. A black vest was over that, with black dressy looking skinny jeans, and black heels. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, with glasses on her face to take away from the 'Blazeyness', and she had gotten rid of her hair's red streaks just for the occasion. Yes, she missed them, but it was for Sosa, her superior.  
>She could manage.<p>

_"You two will walk towards the first check point. A group of about ten guards that want to ask you what you're doing, or else they'll shoot. You give them these," Hannibal said, slipping the paper towards Blaze, letting her check it over, "and pretend to be the precursor to the interested party."_

When she got to the check point, her eyes lit up as she did, in fact, see at least ten guards. One stepped in front of her, pointed down sharp nose and black eyes staring directly at her, and asked her a question.

"Что вы здесь бизнес?(What is your business here?)" he asked, his hand rubbing the five-o'clock shadow on his face.  
>She smiled.<p>

"Клиент Ваш босс пожелания, чтобы я проверил на своем ... инвестиций. Я надеюсь, что он не разочарован, если он не может получить обзор состояния ее здоровья. Или, мой босс хотел бы знать, если его деньги тратятся на шлюха или нет. (Your boss's client wishes me to check on his...investment. I hope he isn't disappointed if he can't get an overview of her health. My boss would like to know if his money is wasted on a ** or not.)"

Then she handed him the papers and looked at the man with her eyebrow raised. Face just tried to look intimidating as he stared down one of the other guards, his blue eyes piercing through the darkened glasses.

He nodded her through, telling his men to move away from the exit and let her in.

_"Once you're inside, you will probably meet Lynch, who was commed by one of the guards outside. He asks you why you're here, telling him and say you have a...gift in the back of the car from the buyer." said Hannibal, smiling at his plan._

_Murdock scratched his head. "Okay, I still have NOOOOO idea where I come into this! Don't I get in on the action this time?"_

"Okay, sweetheart, tell me why my guards let you in, or you're being shot," said Lynch, coming up to her. His men pointed guns at her and Face. He didn't seem to recognize her, so it was a good thing.

She smirked. "I am coming in place of you buyer to...eh...check up on your little deal. He wishes to know if she is in good health and can do as she is commanded."

"And how exactly do I know that you are being serious here? I've had many people do the same, hence all the guards outside," replied Lynch, telling his guards to lower their weapons. She smirked at him.

"Bring him in," she said, nodding at the disguised Face. He went out the door, returning a few minutes later with a figure, bag over his head and wriggling around with his hands bound in front of him. "I presume this will do."

Lynch went up to the figure, noticing the slightly familiar style of dress: combat boot, army scrubs, hands calloused in unusual spots from holding the stick or yoke of an aircraft . . .

He pulled off the bag the man's head, leaving him blinking in the sudden brightness outside the bag, to reveal—

_"Oh hell yeah!" said Murdock, jumping up and down. "I get to be a prisoner! Yay!"_

_Hannibal smiled at the crazed pilot, setting his cigar down as the fire slowly burnt out within. "Lynch will probably be distracted by you guys, giving me and B.A. a chance to sneak in from the roof or vent system."_

"Ahh, Captain James Murdock! What a surprise!" Lynch exclaimed. He motioned towards his guards. "Take him away. You two, come with me. I'll take you to see our prisoner."


	10. Family Ties

I don't own A-team.

* * *

><p>Chapter Ten: Family Ties<p>

Murdock watched his two disguised friends walk away as he was dragged away himself. He now remembered a certain part in Hannibal's plan, one that was super important.

_"Murdock, once you're taken away from most of the guards except for the two or three leading you to your cell, knock out the guards escorting you and try to find the main ventilation access. It should be at least ten meters from where you first started, on the right."_

With a bobby pin, from Blaze of course, in hand, Murdock picked the lock to the cuffs. It was a cliche, really, that they were metal cuffs and could be picked that easily, but he was okay with it. Once the cuffs were off, or at least one side, Murdock struck the guard behind him with his heel in the groin area, sending him down with a groan. Then, whipping both his arms, he hit the guards on both of his sides. A curious guard in front turned around, receiving a punch in the nose from Murdock. He then brought the guard's head to his knee, knocking him out. The left guard came and swung at Murdock, landing a nice punch in his stomach. Murdock responded with a familiar move, hooking his leg around the guard sending him to the floor with a big 'crack' from the guard's back. The right guard then came in, swinging a baton at Murdock with precise aim. Murdock stealthily hooked the other cuff around the opposite hand of the guard, rendering the baton useless. He found the keys, unlocked the other side, and cuffed the other wrist to the guard. He then yanked the cuffs down so that the guard fell to the floor, groaning lightly. He turned around, raising an eyebrow at the last guard. The guard looked at his co-workers, then at Murdock, and took the fallen police baton to the head, knocking himself out.

Smiling happily, Murdock put the four men into one of the rooms conveniently placed close to where he was and stole a uniform. They all wore black ski masks over their heads, so it would be hard to know that it was Murdock. Then, Murdock scouted for the vent. He had to back track a bit, but he eventually found it and got to work.

_"While you're getting the main access open, B.A. and I will ascend from other areas. B.A., you will get in through the left side of the building, through the vent system. It should hold-" said Hannibal._

_"It's doubtful," piped Blaze._

_"-but if it doesn't, pretend to be a repairman."_

B.A. sighed as he crawled through the small vent shaft. It was small for him, considering the vast amounts of muscle that held onto his body, and hard to maneuver. But he had to do it anyways.

"Damn Hannibal, making me climb through a small vent shaft. Oh, I pity the fool..." he mumbled stopping at a rather large incline. He heard some tinkering coming from down there. "Murdock!"

"You almost here? 'Cause I almost got it!" replied the pilot, then he cursed.

A sound of something detaching itself from a wall was heard. "I got it!"

B.A. sighed, going to the incline and placing his feet on the side. Once he slid in far enough, he used his hands to slide down to the bottom and crawl out the vent. Murdock was outside, a black ski mask on his head, waving.

_"But boss," began Face, looking at Hannibal with a curious look in his eyes, "what about you?"_

_Hannibal smiled. "Oh, don't worry about me, I'll be in. Now, Murdock, B.A., I want you to go and turn off the power, wait a few minutes, then turn it back on. If any guards come out of nowhere, don't worry. I've got you covered."_

B.A. and Murdock quickly made their way to the power room, running into many wrong ways in the process all while trying to avoid guards, and turned off the power with a large switch that to Murdock just begged to be thrown. The power going out attracted guards outside the room, about three which was a surprise considering that it was a power outage. They opened the door and began to scream in Russian. A butt of a weapon hit each of them on the head, causing them to all fall unconscious onto the floor. Hannibal then stood there, M16 in hand, behind the fallen guards.

"Turn it back on, boys," said Hannibal, talking to both Murdock and B.A..

Murdock nodded, switching the power back on.

Meanwhile Blaze and Face had been led to Sosa's cell.

The power switched out, which only meant that Murdock and B.A. got to their objective. A slight smirk appeared on Face's face, his covered eyes portraying smidgen of humor. Lynch looked up at the lights, whispering something to two of his guards, and they ran off, picking up another as they ran.

"Sorry about this, we usually get some type of power surge," said Lynch as the lights switched back on. "There we go, now to business."  
>They walked over to Sosa, her head down and her breathing heavy. She was just shocked before the three came into the room.<p>

"Honey, I got you visitors."

Sosa picked up her head, eyes growing wide. She recognized them immediately, or at least one. The male, and it was Face. That smirk was so familiar to her, it was engraved in her brain.

"Oh yeah? And why do I get the pleasure of visitors?" she asked, her voice scratchy and hoarse.

Blaze's eyes darted to Face, who was looking like he usually did, plus a smirk.

"They're here because you're being sold to a friend of mine, a very good friend. Now I-" began Lynch, but was interrupted by his phone ringing. He picked up. "Talk to me."

He paused, and talking was heard over the phone.

"Uh-huh. Okay." he hung up, looking at Blaze and Face with a now curious look.

"It seems like your boss is here, so I'm going to go welcome him. You guys stay here."

Blaze nodded. "Okay, we'll do our own inspection of her, so that my boss knows who she really is."

Lynch nodded, walking out of the room and shutting the door. It didn't lock, so that obviously meant that their disguise still held up. Blaze's eyes went for the room up on the balcony, eyeing for any guards.

None, so they were good.

"All right, you got B.A.'s device thing?" asked Blaze, taking an electric screw driver out of the messeanger bag to work on the foot straps.

Face nodded, taking out the small device out of his pocket. "Yeah, and he told me how to work it too! We got to finish before they get here, though." He moved to the back of the chair, inspecting the petty binds that held Sosa's hands together. It was tough leather, so the device would work. He pushed a button, letting a laser come out the top, and cut the cuffs in two.

Blaze had managed to get the straps on her feet off, then offered a hand to help her superior up. "Ready to go? I think our time window is closing fast."

"Let's get outta this hell hole before I decide to go crazy," muttered Sosa, taking her hand and trying to level herself. Her legs were jelly, so she couldn't do anything. "A little help here?"

Face and Blaze nodded, both taking a side of her. They headed out the door, heading towards the stair to get onto the very conveniently placed roof which held a helicopter.

_"Once you both get Sosa out, head to the roof. We'll meet you at the door to escort you guys."_

The three made their way towards the door, attracting some oncoming attention as they ran. They reached the door, meeting up with the other three members.

"Damn! Took you long enough!" said B.A., catching the device that Face threw at him. "Did it work good?"

Blaze nodded as Hannibal opened the door. "Oh yeah, it worked."

"Hey!" came a scream behind them, causing all six to turn around. Standing there was a ** off Lynch, a bunch of guards, and the client. Blaze almost dropped Sosa, a shocked expression on her face, when she saw the buyer.

"Get them before they leave!" screamed Lynch, pointing towards the group.

They all scrambled into the stair case, B.A. shoving a random few barrels of something heavy in front of the door. They ran up the whole three flights of stairs.

"Blaze," said Hannibal, leading the group with Blaze right behind had taken Blaze's place in carrying Sosa since she had looked so shocked."Who was that man?"

Blaze gulped as they reached the roof. "My father. Former Sgt. Harry Morrigan. He was in the Army Rangers."

"I know, he was an old friend of mine," replied Hannibal, pushing open the door that lead them to the roof. Cold air hit all of them with a shocking force. "This isn't good."

"I know, because he saw me," said Blaze, running towards the helicopter.

B.A. stopped in mid-run, his eyes looking at the helicopter with a certain fear.

"Oh hell no! I ain't getting on any type of air craft!"


	11. The Beginning of the End

I don't own A-team.

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven: The Beginning of the end<p>

Face sighed, shaking his head as he slipped a needle into the neck of B.A. The mechanic slumped into his arms, giving the conman the opportunity to drag him into the already started up helicopter. As he strapped in B.A., Blaze helped Sosa into the heli then climbed out and looked at the team. A sad expression crossed her face as she looked at them all.

"Aren't you coming?" asked Face over the blare of the helicopter's top spinning.

She shook her head.

"He won't stop hunting you if you don't leave me here! Take Sosa to the US! I'll be fine!" she yelled, looking at his with sorrow still in her eyes.

Face reluctantly climbed out of the chopper and gathered her into a hug.

"I won't let you go! I don't want you to die," he muttered, planting a kiss on her cheek. "You'll die if you go back there."

She smiled a bit as he nuzzled his head into her hair. "I did my job. I found you, I rescued Sosa, and I found out who was in charge of illegal slave trades in Russia. Just go, please. My father's been chasing after me for a while, so hopefully the urge will be sated with me going with him."

"But Blaze-" he began, pulling away from her. His hands lay on her shoulders, keeping them a good distance apart, but still close.

She shook her head. "Templeton, just go."

He was shocked, to be honest. It was the first time he had heard her say his name in a way that wasn't bad, or referring to his devious nature. His hand still gripped her shoulders tightly, so tight she would get bruises once he let go. But he didn't want to let go of her, never had wanted to, even since he first met her.

Then, something hit him.

"I remember you." he said, looking at her with wide eyes. "That's why you trusted us, that's why I felt so attracted to you! Y-you changed your name. It wasn't Cyrus before, that's not your birth name. It was your middle name.

"Athena Cyrus Thrud Morrigan. That's your name."

She smiled weakly and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you do remember."

She heard the door behind them burst open with shouts in all types of languages, including English. They weren't exactly nice words being shouted.

"Please, go!"

He looked at her, then back at the chopper, and sighed. With one more crushing hug (and a quick peck on the lips) he climbed in and shut the door, telling Murdock to take off. All he could do while the chopper took off was watch her fade into the figure of an ant.  
>Blaze smirked a bit as her father plus Lynch came up the stairs following their men. A very irate expression was on her father's face as he came closer, his muscular body towering over her.<p>

"So, you little bitchyou thought you could evade me forever?" he asked, voice threatening. She shrugged a bit as the chopper's noise faded more and more into the setting sun. The matching black hair of father and daughter looked almost daunting. "You were obviously wrong."

She shrugged again. "Not forever, but long enough to let Sosa get away. I had a feeling that once Murdock said you were in contact with Vance Baressess, I knew it just had to be you. But, for your information, I wasn't the only one that knew about my plan."

_After the meeting, Hannibal pulled Blaze aside._

_"What are you planning?" he asked her, a fatherly look on his face. "You know ever since that day in the training camp I've thought of you like a daughter, so tell me what you're planning."_

_She sighed a bit. "It's this whole thing, it's giving me a weird feeling. I-I think the interested client may be my father, although I'm not exactly sure. It's around a twenty percent chance." _

_Hannibal nodded, taking a drag on his cigar. "What are you going to do, 'Thena?" That was his nickname for her, 'Thena. It'd sunk in after he learned her real name, and her real identity. For years he'd been watching her progress, watching her grow and become stronger like her father. But he knew, and for sure, that she was nothing like him._

_"If he's there, I'm staying. He'll stop hunting people and give up, taking me as an obvious prize. My mother'll be pleased when I come. Big family reunion, right?" she joked half-heartedly, smiling weakly._

_"What about Face? Are you ever going to tell him?" he asked, giving her a serious look. _

_She shrugged. "I don't know. Don't you think it'll be weird to realize he's been attracted to the woman that started him on his crazy track. I went missing at sixteen and never saw him again!"_

_"I know, he told me about you." replied Hannibal, giving her a knowing look. He sighed. "He still loves you."_

_"I know, I love him too." she replied. "But tomorrow, when this all goes down, if I sacrifice myself, just promise me one thing."_

_He nodded. "Okay, shoot."_

_"Find me, rescue me and kill the son-of-a-bitch that's my father."_

Her father sneered at her. "So, Hannibal helped you come up with that petty plan? No matter, I got you instead of Sosa, so I believe I don't have to pay anything." He stepped up, grabbed her arm forcefully, and began to walk away.

Lynch looked pissed. "Umm, no, this isn't what we agreed on! I mean, come on, I need something!" His voice came out stressed and taken back, with shock in it.

"I'm letting you live, kid. Do yourself a favor and get out of this business, or else you'll be rotting away in a Korean prison cell. I've been through that, so take my word of advice. Settle down, get a whore as a wife, move to Italy or something and buy a pizza restaurant," growled her father, motioning to his men to follow him. Blaze passed him, slipping a piece of paper into his back pocket.

Lynch looked shocked, but shook it off.

"And what the hell am I supposed to do with this place?" he asked, yelling after the elder Morrigan.

He turned around and smirked. "You're former CIA, you figure it out."

As the group walked out, Lynch kicked a ventilation shaft, not even noticing the vent grid missing. Thoughts of every possible idea ran through his devious mind, until one reached his head.

"Damn," he muttered, knowing the only solution. Then, he remembered the feeling he had on his left butt cheek and checked his pocket. In it was a note with messy writing strewn all over it.

**_Dear Vance,_**

**_You seem like a good person with the desire to do good, but the want to have money goes over that. My father is a bad guy, don't do deals with him ever again. But, what I do want you to do, Mr. Vance, is help the A-team. You've done bad ** in your day and need to own up to it and help the winning side for once. On this paper is the number of Hannibal Smith's cell phone, I want you to call it. He knows that you would be calling him if you decide to help._**  
><strong><em>You know the plan, it's to save me and kill the ** I call my father. So please, show mercy for once and please help me.<em>**

**_From not yours truly,_**  
><strong><em>Athena Cyrus Thrud Morrigan, Military Police, 1st Lieutenant <em>**  
><strong><em>P.S.~ Secret code is Chocolate Pudding. Don't ask why, it just<em>**_ it._


	12. Forever starts now

I don't own A-team.

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve: Forever starts now<p>

_Washing D.C., United States of America, DOD HQ, 1500 hours_

Sosa stood in front of a very familiar office in front of a very familiar group of men in a very _very_ familiar situation. She, still, looked weathered and worn, for she had just gotten back from Russia. The A-team, after dropping her off and making a quick escape, told her that they would call her on her phone if anything came up about Blaze. Now, unfortunately, Captain Charisa Sosa was explaining, or more rather taking the heat, of what happened on her latest mission.

"So, do you know where he took Lieutenant Morrigan?" asked her superior, General Stonewell. He was a rather stout man with gray hair covering his balding head, while an old western mustache was supported on his upper lip. Dull brown eyes looked at her intently, waiting for her to fail.

"No," said Sosa, shaking her head, "but I will put all my effort into finding her. I won't stop until she's found, sir. She was my responsiblity and I want to get her back."

The man next to General Stonewell nodded. He was General Michaels, a younger man(by two or three years) with graying black hair and light green eyes. His skin was slightly tanned and weathered from his many years in service, but his eyes held a very mature and wise spark.

"What do you plan to do?" asked General Michaels, his eyes scanning the Captain. She straightened up and looked him straight in the eye.

"Well, sirs, I was hoping to hire the A-team to help me find her." she said.

The room erupted in shouts.

"NO!"

"NEVER!"

"ARE YOU JOKING ME?"

"THIS HAS TO BE A MISTAKE!"

"ALL OF YOU SHUT UP!" shouted Michaels, his eyes growing angry. "I agree, they're our best bet."

Sosa nodded.

"And..." said Michaels, looking at her with now curious eyes, "you want their rights back. Everything, don't you? No charges, no random anything against them. The plate charges all cleaned from their records and spotless as ever...mostly."

She nodded. "And I'll only do the recue mission on those conditions, but I think there is one more thing you have to know that might convince you all." Her voice only wavered a bit, thinking of the man she saw. She recognized the name, the face, and it looked a lot like...

"Okay, tell me." demanded Stonewell, his eyes glaring into hers.

She breathed out.

"Okay, well, when I was captured, Lynch was supposed to sell me to someone. He, however, didn't come until Blaze tried to rescue me and the A-team came with her. While we were runnning I got a good glimpse of his face. It was Harry Morrigan, the former Army Ranger given the dishonorable discharge because of what he did while he was in Korea who ran away to some...random place that no one knows where. I-I think Bl-err...Morrigan knew what she was getting into when Murdock found out I was going to be sold. My mind tells me she was just being a good friend, but my gut tells me she did it to save all our skins. He'd probably stop hunting once he got her, or so she thought, but I think he'll eventually grow bored and start up again."

All the Generals paused to soak in the news that was brought to their ears. She let out a shaky breath and began to breath slowly. It felt good, really for her, to get it off her chest. The fact that she'd been in captivity for atleast a month had worn at her immensly.

"She's right, you know." said a female voice behind her. Three steps were taken from behind her and a presence stepped next to Sosa. "You need the A-team."

Stonewell looked slightly pleased with himself. "Ms. Conrad, it's been to long."

The woman, Ms. Conrad, was thin and muscular. Her hair was a pitch black, almost shadow like, and she had completely gray eyes. Her skin was pale and her nails chalked with dirt. She looked tall, around 5'10, with broad shoulders that showed either a fierce work out schedule 24-7. On her body was a pair of black dress pants, a rose pink blouse, black leather boots and a braid in her hair. She looked around the age of Hannibal Smith, except with a childish glow.

"Please, call me Cora." she replied. "Sosa is right, you need the A-team. I, personally, know from experience. From working with him for that many years, I'm surprised he didn't tell her."

Sosa seemed confused. "Tell who what?"

"Tell my daughter that she'd made the wrong mistake, going with that bastard." She looked at Sosa, then back at the Genrals. "Sirs, I would like to take up my former position and lead the rescue mission for my daughter."

Stonewell growled. "I will not have that!"

"What, for me to rescue my own daughter? Henry, please, she's my daughter! And plus, I outrank everyone one of those men! They aren't even in the army anymore! Just let me do the one last thing to end my carrier!" she pleaded, her eyes looking at all the mens. She kept eyes contact. "Make a vote, please, let me do this."

Michaels nodded, looking at his little group of Generals. "You can go."

"But Oliver-" began Stonewell, his eyebrows raised.

"No, it's official. I outrank you all, and you will follow my orders. Col. Conrad, you are to lead the mission with Captain Sosa and her team under your belt. I wish you luck, and personally vow that when the A-team comes back their records will be cleaned and they will be reinstated into the Army. I, however, cannot tell you whether or not the Rangers will welcome him in." He smiled at the two women. "Good luck ladies."

* * *

><p><em>New York, New York, Main Street, two days later, Abandoned Warehouse, 1300 hours<em>

"Ugh, hangover." muttered Face, rubbing his...well...face as he groaned out loud. His not-so-casul drinking obsession came over him after the depression that he'd probably never see Athena-or Blaze-again.

Hannibal shook his head, sipping coffee. "You need to stop this, Face, it's killing you." His voice was full of concern for the younger man, a fatherly concern.

"I don't care." he managed, his words slurring a bit. "I just want her back."

"Yes Face, we know." mumbled B.A., shaking his head after Hannibal. "But you with your sorry ass moping around this place is totally depressing everyone here including Murdock, man. And you know how hard it is to depress him."

"Yeah! You're messing with my mojo!" added Murdock from the stove as he sent a fire up. "Oh, Hannibal! I got a call from a...uh...Moria C. Oriad or something like that."

Hannibal lit up, taking a drag from the cigar near him. "Moria Coriana Conrad?"

"YEAH! That! She said...that...uh...oh SNICKERS ON A WALNUT COVERED WITH PEANUT SAUCE ON A STICK! I don't remember!" he shouted, throwing something on the floor. His hands switched off the stove so he wouldn't start a fire. "All I remember is that she should be outside the door about now."

"Actually I'm standing behind you all with the team the will help you get my daughter back from her suicidal father who married an italian whore. But that's the usually when you're in my life, correct?" asked Conrad, stepping behind Hannibal with Sosa behind her. "And get your head off the table, boy, it's one-o-clock in the afternoon. Take asprin and get over it, we've got work to do."

Hannibal turned around. "It's wonderful to see you again, Cora."

"As it is to see you also, Hannibal, but I wish it were on better circumstances." She shook her head. "I just think that this is the best. Officially after this I'm retiring, I've seen way to much."

"Well, I would to considering what we just did, but something else is coming to mind. Are we getting reinstated?"

She nodded. "Yes, considering the game of Russian Roulette you all played with your lives to save Sosa."

"All in a days work, but when are we starting?" replied B.A., his voice cocky, sort of.

She smiled and looked over a Sosa who looked tired and worn down. But determination was in her features.

"Whenever you're ready." she replied, smiling at them. "This is your call, gentlemen."

Face, groaning a bit, sat up and turned around as well. "Well, then, I guess forever starts now."

"Indeed it does."


	13. Epilog

I don't own A-team.

* * *

><p><span>Epilog:<span>

**"Warning. Warning. Security breach on level five.****"**

"Damnit!" huffed a worn Blaze. Her long hair was pulled back by a leather strap. Sweat dripped down her body and to the floor, making it look newly painted or like someone had just mopped. "Not again."

Footsteps came towards her. She would've ran, but she was far to tired and to worn out to even attempt running from her father's italian connies.

Again.

"Accidenti, puttana, pensi che stai ricevendo via?" asked one of the guards, more mocking her then asking. He was the leader, named Giovanni, and was as slimey as a snake. She hated how his black hair was greased back like Severus Snape's is Harry Potter, and how his eyes reminded her of darkness. "Beh, no. Avete capito?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sì, solo che non mi danno ai nervi." she replied.

Giovanni held out a hand for something. "'Uour hand, la mia bella."

"In your dreams, Gio. Just take me to my father so then we can get this over with." Her voice came out in a growl as his men roughly grabbed her shoulders. They dragged her towards the elevator, a large silver box that went up and down throughout the eight level building. It wasn't a warehouse like the last one, it was a high-tech White House level security building.

If Hannibal was to be her savior, he'd need to hurry it up just a bit.

The group went into the elevator, and one of the connies pushed a big '8'. The pent house, that's where she, her father, and her father's wife were staying. Every once in a while(atleast twince every day) she tried to get out of there with hacking, slicing, destroying, anything that she could to get away from the over bubbly personality of her father's wife. And since she'd been stuck in that hell-hole for over four days, she had about...eight escape attempts.

All failed.

"Where the hell did you go?" growled her father when the came out of the elevator. His black hair was strewn in a pluthera of different places.

She smirked.

"Well, you really wouldn't be paying attention much, would you? It seems like Francessca was handling your time rather well." she replied, getting away from the guards and sauntering towards the fridge. With a bruised arm, she opened the fridge and picked out a water bottle. "And obviously I was on level five, hence the 'WARNING WANING SERCURITY BREACH' shit."

He growled a bit and said, "You really shouldn't try and escape, Athena, it won't work. I've got this placed locked down tight, tighter than the White House."

"Yes, but tighter than the Pentagon's firewall? I breached that easily a long time ago, and I've made it better. Your pitiful excuse for a security system just has some...eh...armor I have to get passed." She looked around and spotted his father's wife, Francessca. "Ciao Francessca."

"Ciao." she replied, voice high and nasily. With swaying hips she walked over to Athena's dad and whispered something into his ear, making him smile.

"That's not a bad idea, love." he replied with a low voice. An evil smirk appeared on his face. "Gio! Take my daughter to the holding cells on level two! Make sure all technology is turned off and every door is guard twenty-four/seven! I don't want her escaping this place, I want her here everyday!" Gio appeared behind Blaze, taking the water bottle and dragging her towards the elevator. "AND SHE ONLY GETS ONE MEAL A DAY!"

Blaze huffed, unsatisfied that her little 'talk' with her deranged father didn't go the way she planned. As she was dragged, heaved, and thrown into a dark prison cell, she felt something slide into her back pocket. When she looked back, a thin, tall guard with ginger hair winked at her and shut the door. He looked slightly familiar to her, and she shook her head.

"Coulda sworn that was-no it couldn't be."

She sighed and reached into her pocket, pulling out a faded yellow piece of paper folded ten to many times. With a firm hand, she unfolded it and looked at the familiar writing on the paper.

It read:

**_Hold on tight, sis. They're coming eventually. _**

_**~Bill** _


	14. Author's note!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Aww :( It's finished, ya'll. I hope you liked it. Now, everyone clap for Hoodoo! Thank them for what they did :D Although the last two chatpers are unbetaed, I hope you guys like them**

**Since I'm writing this, I would like to inform you that yes, there will be a sequal, and yes it will be Face/OC. It may take a bit to crank out, since school and stuff, but I hope I cant get it out for you guys and hopefully make it happen! **

**Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed**

**~gleek2**


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